


Hallow's Eve

by Katiebug586



Category: Fillmore!
Genre: Ghosts, Halloween, Kind of angst? There's some emotional moments ahead, Possession, cold cases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiebug586/pseuds/Katiebug586
Summary: It's nearing Halloween and for once in Fillmore's life, there's absolutely no cases to crack. However, he just had to jinx it.Suddenly, Vallejo's acting weird and trying to get the Safety Patrol to solve a missing child case that happened during school nearly a decade ago.Why is Vallejo acting so weird? Who names their child Bartholomew? When will O'Farrell start being a normal person?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. ACT ONE: The Coldest Case

**ACT ONE: The Coldest Case**

It was one of the most _boring_ weeks at X Middle School, since well, ever. The lack of cases for the Safety Patrol to handle was becoming unbearable, bordering on suspicious. It might have been good for Vallejo’s stress since Principal Folsom wasn’t threatening him to have the HQ turned into a pizzeria or bagel shop every other day, but it was absolute agony for Fillmore and he was sure his partner, Ingrid Third, felt the same way as well.

At least it was nearing Halloween, somebody _always_ had to commit some kind of crime during the holiday. Whether it was catching the perp who decided it’d be fun to pass out rotten candy before they did such an act or catching whoever was behind the school TPing, Fillmore and Ingrid were on it.

On this particularly boring day, Fillmore was sitting at the cafeteria, eating his lunch, as usual. As he finished up his soda, he saw Ingrid running up beside him, carrying a small file in her arms. Finally, another case, something to do around here.

“We finally got another case?” He asked, twirling the empty can in his hand before launching it over his shoulder and into the recycling bin. “I _knew_ this little break for us had to end sooner or later.”

“Well, yes, we’ve been issued another case, but it’s not what you think.”

“Lemme guess, Jimmy Horton’s placing robot tarantulas in the locker rooms again?” Fillmore stretched, preparing to save the day once again. That was his job as a safety patroller, after all.

“That would be much less of a headache to solve than what we got. Just take a look.” She slid him the file, sitting down beside him. He opened it up without hesitation, but he could never prepare himself for the bizarreness of the contents inside of the small folder. 

Inside, there was a photo of a tiny kid with brown hair and sharp blue eyes who was smiling in a rather adorkable fashion, showing off a missing tooth. That wasn’t the most concerning part, however. Beside the photo, there was a sheet detailing the case, with the words **BARTHOLOMEW WINSTON, AGE 12, MISSING SINCE 1/12/1992.**

“A cold case,” Fillmore replied, brows furrowing. “Why would Principal Folsom want to make us solve these? This kid’s been missing for almost a decade! This is a new low for her, man.”

“It wasn’t Mrs. Folsom,” Ingrid replied, looking away. “It was Vallejo.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Run that by me again?” Why was _Vallejo_ of all people wanting his team to investigate these probably unsolvable cases? Wasn’t he supposed to _enjoy_ this period of no rule-breaking?

“I know that _you_ were busy with overseeing football tryouts this morning, but Vallejo’s been acting weird. He’s been _way_ more nervous than normal and earlier, he pretty was determined to get this case solved. But not in the old ‘Do this or so help me’ Vallejo way, but in a rather meek and ‘Do this… if you want to, that is.’ way.”

“That _is_ weird,” Fillmore muttered, thinking deeply. “Maybe he’s finally lost his mind due to the stress of Mrs. Folsom and her threats to turn the HQ into a school bank. That or the cocoa addiction has finally begun to take his toll on him.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think cocoa would harm him _that_ bad.”

“ _Or,_ he’s putting these cases on us so we have something to do, you know? So Mrs. Folsom doesn’t go on _him_ because we’ve all been sitting around and twiddling our thumbs with nothing to do. Either way, he doesn’t actually _expect_ us to solve any of them. Besides, aren’t actually missing people out of our jurisdiction?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Fillmore.”

The boy got up, grabbing the case file. “Anyways, we better get back to HQ and see what the fuss is all about. I can tell you one thing right now, though, I’d go missing if my parents named me Bartholomew.”

Ingrid smirked. “And I suppose _Cornelius_ is a better first name.”

“Listen, Ingrid, Cornelius has _spunk,_ it clearly says ‘Don’t mess with me, I’m part of the Safety Patrol.’. Bartholomew just sounds like some kind of rich upper-cut name you’d hear on the honor roll.” Fillmore opened up the file once more, looking at the photo. “But he doesn’t _look_ like honor roll material, either. I’m sure we’ll figure it out, let’s roll.”

Back at the Safety Patrol Headquarters, the two investigators met up with Tehama and Anza, studying some kind of ‘evidence.’ Ingrid rested on one of the desks, bored and slightly confused. “You find anything yet?”

Tehama scoffed, pushing her microscope to the side. “This is, by all means, a wild goose chase! All the evidence we’ve managed to gather from their apparent ‘last known location’ is recent and totally and utterly useless! It’s not like we can find witnesses and ask them about it, considering this is from nineteen-ninety-two!”

Fillmore nodded. “I’ll just go and ask the chief what exactly it is that we’re supposed to be doing.” 

Anza was the next one to speak up. “You sure you wanna do that? The guy hasn’t exactly been in his right mind, so to say.”

“I don’t know what any of you guys are talking about, okay? Let me just speak to the boss and figure out what’s going on. He can’t be acting _that_ weird.” Fillmore looked around, locating Vallejo standing against the wall, looking rather anxious, and started to walk towards them.

“I should go too,” Ingrid pulled herself off the desk, following her partner and friend. “Good luck with the evidence, you guys.”

“Thanks,” Tehama muttered. “We’re going to need it.”

Fillmore walked over to the Junior Commissioner, Ingrid close behind him. “Hey, Vallejo, what’s up?”

“Oh, uh, If it isn’t my uh… best patroller, Hillmore. Oh, and… and… the girl.” Vallejo nervously glanced around as if he _knew_ those weren’t the right names, but he simply couldn’t remember the right ones.

“Third, Ingrid Third,’ Ingrid replied, unamused at being called simply ‘The Girl’. “And that’s _Fillmore.”_

“Third, Fillmore, right. Sorry. So, what brings you… here?”

Fillmore took this as the opportunity to bring up his question regarding the case. “I was just wondering, how are we supposed to solve this case you gave us? I mean, I’m not saying it’s a bad case, Chief, it’s just, what makes you think _we_ ’ll be able to solve it? We’re just some kids in orange belts who sometimes stop other kids from doing bad things.”

“You… uh… don’t have to _solve_ it, exactly. I was just thinking, what if we found enough evidence and got the police to reopen my- I mean, _the_ case?”

Fillmore cocked his head. “You _do_ seem pretty worked up about this whole thing, why’s that?”

His partner continued the discussion. “Fillmore’s right, Vallejo, what is so special about this case? Is it something personal to you? If it is, we could try to help.”

“N-No, no, of course not,” Vallejo stuttered, trying to catch his words. “It’s just, can you imagine being the parents of people who go missing? Not knowing what happened to your child? One day they go to school, then they’re just… g-gone? Terrible, absolutely terrible.”

“I understand, Vallejo.” Fillmore put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll try to find out what happened, but we can’t make any promises. They’re called cold cases for a reason.”

Vallejo looked like he wanted to smile, but seemed to be too nervous to. “T-Thanks. I... I guess.”

Back at Tehama’s desk, Fillmore let out a deep sigh, his thoughts troubling him. “You guys were right, he _is_ acting weird. But the reason _why_ he’s acting weird is a whole other question entirely.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Anza responded, watching Tehama work with another strain of hair. “You think we should call the nurse over here or something? This could be pretty serious.”

“That might not be a bad ide-

Before Ingrid could finish her sentence, O’Farrell suddenly jumped over to the four, ecstatic and as loud as ever. _“I got it! It all makes sense now!"_

Tehama jumped up in shock, before glaring at the rather obnoxious photographer. “That’s _great,_ O’Farrell, but can this wait? The _professionals_ are trying to work here. Don’t you have, oh, I don’t know, pictures of gross and disgusting things to take?”

Fillmore, on the other hand, was less bothered by the interruption. “What you got?”

“You know how the case is about a missing student?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how Vallejo is anxious about this certain case being solved, even though it _hasn’t_ been solved for _almost a decade?”_

_“We get it, O’Farrell!”_ Tehama snapped back, clearly still annoyed by his sudden arrival. “Just spit it out, already!”

“Okay, okay! So prepare yourselves for the earth-shattering truth!”

“We’re preparing ourselves.” Fillmore mused. He, along with the rest of the safety patrol, wasn’t preparing for an ‘earth-shattering truth’ more they were preparing themselves for the mental facepalm that O’Farrell would create, once again raising the bars on how far naivety and borderline stupidity could go.

“What if Vallejo… _is Bartholomew?!”_ O’Farrell finished, waiting for everyone to start gasping and questioning why they didn’t think of that possibility sooner. Instead, it was completely silent, everyone trying to comprehend what he had just said.

“I don’t get it,” Anza spoke up, confused. “How could Vallejo _be_ Bartholomew? He’s at least 7 years younger than him! Unless you’re speaking on the topic of reincarnation and Bartholomew is actually dead and he reincarnated into Vallejo, who’s now been getting memories or something of his past life. Which is why he wants this case solved, so a part of him can move on in peace?”

O’Farrell nodded, agreeing. “Yes, yes! That’s _much_ better than what I was trying to say! My theory was that Vallejo… _was possessed by a ghost!”_

“O’Farrell, that has to be the most _ridiculous_ thing that I have _ever_ heard from-”

Ingrid put her hand in front of Fillmore. “Wait, let him talk. He _might_ be onto something.”

O’Farrell’s eyes lit up, happy that someone was finally willing to listen to his crackpot theory. “It’s _so_ obvious! Why is Vallejo so worked up about getting a cold case solved, one from over half a decade ago, if he’s _not_ the missing student’s disembodied spirit? Besides, it _is_ almost Halloween, when spiritual energy _is_ at it’s strongest!”

Ingrid let out a small ‘Hmm’, mulling over what O’Farrell said. “It makes sense. It would explain why he doesn’t really remember, or in this case, even _know_ our names. What do you think guys?”

Anza nodded, while Tehama looked a little reluctant to agree with a ghost theory, a ghost theory from O’Farrell, no less. Eventually, she gave in, shrugging. “Well, I guess if you guys are going with it, I’ll go with it too. Besides, playing whatever _ghost game_ this is, is a _much_ better way to waste my time than just picking up useless samples in a hopeless attempt to solve an unsolvable case.”

“You guys have _got_ to be kidding me.” Everyone turned to look at Fillmore. “Everyone knows ghosts don’t exist. Besides, what if Vallejo really _is_ sick and we’re wasting valuable time we could use to help him because we’re doing _this_?”

“To be fair, I don’t think Vallejo is sick,” Ingrid began. “He might be acting weird, but he doesn’t _look_ sick. Also, everyone knows ghosts exist, Fillmore, stop kidding yourself.”

Fillmore let out a sharp groan, before walking towards the door. “You know what? I’m going for a walk to clear my head out. When I return, everyone _better_ snap out of their ghost theory weirdness and be prepared to actually get down to business."

As he turned the knob, he heard O’Farrell mutter “Who died and made Fillmore Junior Commissioner? Oh, you know, besides the ghost that _possessed Vallejo?!”_

He quickly rolled his eyes and opened the door, walking out into the hallway. As he shuffled down the corridor aimlessly, he had a thought.

Today was going to be a long day.


	2. ACT TWO: The Ghost Among Us

**ACT TWO: The Ghost Among Us**

Fillmore walked down the hallway, trying to focus and keep his mind sharp. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem, but right now, all he could think about was the whole ghost thing. Vallejo being possessed by a ghost? No way, not possible. Yet his friends seemed so _into_ the idea, acting as if there was the slightest possibility that was what happened. But ghosts didn’t exist, right?

Yet, for some reason, he felt like he was being watched. As if there was something creeping up behind him, watching from afar. But there _was_ nobody, right? Yet the feeling kept growing, stronger and stronger until he couldn’t take it anymore and turned around.

Nothing, no ghost Vallejo, no students hanging around. Just an empty and barren hall. Thankfully nobody was around to see how freaked and wacked out Fillmore was about this whole situation.

And then he turned back around.

And lost it.

Standing right in front of him, when there was nobody there _moments before,_ was nobody but Vallejo, though he didn’t exactly look the same. His body was translucent, his eyes were now completely white and he looked exactly like a-

“Ghost!” Fillmore screeched out, in a rather unmanly fashion, falling onto the ground and trying to slide away. 

“Where?” His ghostly friend asked, before realizing what he meant. “Oh, right. Wait, you can actually see me?”

Fillmore nodded, too shocked to speak. Was this _actually_ real? Was O’Farrell _actually_ right for once? He waited for Ghost Vallejo to say ‘I’m not real, you’re just seeing things!’ and then disappear, but it didn’t look like that would be the case.

Instead, the ghostly figure in front of him let out a sigh of relief. “Phew, you can’t even _begin_ to imagine the number of people that _couldn’t_ see me! I mean, I guess that’s what happens when you suddenly become a ghost, but that’s beyond the point, which is, you gotta help me!”

“H-Help you?” Fillmore stuttered, standing up and trying to regain his bearings. “W-With what?”

I’ve been trying to figure out how I died.” Vallejo muttered, walking further down the hall. Did Vallejo think he was dead? That’d make sense, considering if you suddenly were a ghost, you’d _probably_ assume you died someway or somehow. Fillmore brushed himself off, running up to the Junior Commissioner.

“You’re not actually dead, Vallejo.”

“Huh? Then how am I-”

“I’m not really sure, in fact, I’m still a little unconvinced you’re actually real and not just a hallucination.”

“Typical.”

“But some _crazy_ stuff has been going on. There’s another you at HQ who’s been trying to get us to solve some dumb cold-case about a kid who went missing a bunch of years ago.”

“What?!” Vallejo looked rather miffed at the prospect of there being another him running around.

“I know, it’s crazy. You were acting weird and we were trying to figure out why. O’Farrell came up with the idea that you were possessed by the ghost of the missing kid and everyone agreed with him for some reason. I didn’t think it was possible, but, I could be wrong.”

“Just great, the moment I get a break, I’m suddenly taken from my body in some weird… body-snatching heist.” Vallejo let out a sigh, sitting down and slumping against the lockers.

“It’s okay, Vallejo, we’ll-” Fillmore began to sit down beside his friend before he realized something. “Snap, that’s it! All we have to do is solve the case and he’ll leave you alone!”

Vallejo simply shook his head, he was very close to giving up, it seemed. “You don’t just simply _solve_ these kinds of cases, at least not in under a day. I’ll probably be stuck as some weird safety patrol ghost _forever!”_

“We at least have to _try._ That’s what being a safety patrol member is all abo- Are you crying?” The ghost’s tears, as small as they were, were still _very_ noticeable, at least compared to his now pupil-less eyes.

As soon as Fillmore said that, Vallejo turned his head away, wiping his eyes as best as he could. Even as a shell of who he used to be, he always had to look stoic and seem emotionless. “N-No…”

“Come here, man.” Fillmore reached over, attempting to hug his poor ghost friend, but being that they were, well, a ghost, he slipped through and he ended up hugging the floor instead. Sitting back up, he brushed himself off and leaned against the lockers, trying to pretend that didn’t _just_ happen. “I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did, kid, sure you did.” Vallejo scoffed, looking at the ground, before turning his head away as if he was about to cry again. “Just give up, I have.”

“I’ll never give up! That’s not what safety patrollers do! I’m not going to have you suffer-” Fillmore was stopped from his rant when he heard his friend sniffling. “Oh man, you really _are_ crying, aren’t you?”

Vallejo turned back around, tears now _streaming_ down his face. “Y-You’re… Y-You’re the one who’s… w-who’s gonna be crying, F-Fillmore!”

“Dude, it’s okay to cry. Not only are we _hopefully_ the only ones here, but I’m also the _only_ one that can see you, remember?”

The ghost nodded, sniffling some more as they wiped their eyes. “I… I guess. It’s just… this isn’t fair, I can’t even leave this stinking place!”

“You can’t?”

“You don’t think I tried that? If _you_ woke up as a ghost and _you_ were in _school,_ don’t you think that _you’d_ try to, oh, I don’t know, leave and go anywhere that _isn’t_ school?” Vallejo let out a rather strained sigh, before continuing. “I tried to, but there’s like some sort of forcefield keeping me stuck in here!”

“That bites,” Fillmore commented, fully understanding how awful it’d be to be stuck in school, forever. Sure, the school was more tolerable now that he was part of the safety patrol, but to not be able to leave? He could get where his friend was going at, that just wasn’t fair! Yet, it also made him think about something else. “You know, this gives me a whole new perspective on this ghost of ours.”

“The guy who stole my body and committed _literal_ identity theft? Gee, what about him?”

“Think about it, Vallejo. You’ve only been a ghost for a couple of hours, right? You _think_ this is absolutely awful, and it is, but imagine being stuck like this for _nearly a decade._ Not able to leave school, nobody can see you, and you can’t have your sweet, sweet, delicious hot cocoa anymore. That’d be even worse, wouldn’t it?”

While Vallejo might not have been paying attention before, as soon as Fillmore mentioned cocoa, he fully turned this attention to the matter at hand. “No cocoa?! For a decade?! Okay, I take back what I said, this kid might have it worse than me.”

“Might?”

“Okay, okay, he _does_ have it worse than me, happy? I’ve only been off the stuff for a few hours, but I’m already getting withdrawals, if ghost withdrawals are even a thing. That raises another question. How is it that you’re able to see me when _nobody else_ can? It’s obvious by now that ghost boy couldn’t be seen by anyone and he’s been around here for presumably ten years!”

“That _is_ a good question.” Fillmore struggled to think of an explanation for such an unusual occurrence. “Maybe it’s because you’re not really, for a lack of better words, deceased? Your body is still up and running, it’s just being inhabited by someone else right now. But if that was the case, wouldn’t _other_ people be able to see you as well?”

“If this was a story or something, I’d say your ghost spotting skills are only possible in order to get the plot moving.” Vallejo grumbled.

“But it’s not, this is real life and we gotta do something. We can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs, waiting for the situation to be fixed!” Fillmore stood up, giving Vallejo his hand. “You ready?”

“You know I can’t actually take your hand, right?” As he watched the boy make an ‘Oh right’ face, Vallejo got up. “Doesn’t matter. I’m ready when you are.”

Meanwhile, at the headquarters, O’Farrell was being O’Farrell. “So what are you guys going for Halloween? I’m still debating between going as a zombie or a werewolf!”

Tehama looked up at Anza, pleadingly. “How much longer until we can all go home?! I can’t take this anymore!”

Her partner looked up at the clock on the wall. “About… three more hours. Hey, maybe after this, we could hit one of those haunted house tours or something?”

“I’ve had _enough_ shenanigans involving anything haunted for _an entire year,”_ Tehama groaned, putting her head on the desk. “Where’s Fillmore? I figured he’d be back by now.”

“Maybe, heh, he got _possessed_ by the _ghost_ as-” Anza was interrupted from his light taunting by the door opening and Fillmore walking in. “Oh, nevermind, he’s right there.”

_“We’re back.”_ Was all that their friend said.

“ _We’re?_ Fillmore, you’re by yourself,” Ingrid stated, looking around for anything behind Fillmore, though she didn’t see anyone. “Unless you’ve seen the light and brought some… unexpected company back with you as well.”

“I… uh…” They couldn’t see Vallejo, that’s right! Fillmore looked back at his ghostly friend, who looked rather nervous at the confrontation, despite not even being noticed. “Well-”

“Anza’s right, he’s possessed by the ghost as well!” O’Farrell screeched, grabbing a broom that was leaning against the wall and holding it up in the air. “Get him!”

_"No, O’Farrell,”_ Fillmore held his hand out, defensively. He most certainly didn’t want to get assaulted with a broom today, or any day, for that matter. “Put the broom down, let me finish talking.”

While the boy was apprehensive for a few moments, he eventually lowered the broom, though he still didn’t break eye contact. “Very well, what do you have to say for yourself, ghost? We’re waiting.”

“I _wasn’t_ possessed by a ghost,” The Safety Patroller started, looking back at Vallejo for encouragement, though his friend didn’t have any idea what to do, simply shrugging. “But your theory on a ghost possessing Vallejo? That might not actually be too far from the truth.”

“It’s not?” The photographer mumbled, taken aback by the fact that Fillmore was suddenly agreeing with him. However, he took a defensive stance, glaring at his fellow patroller. “Why do you say that now, Fillmore? You were the one to call me crazy! What happened on that walk to make you change your mind?”

It was silent as the other patrollers, minus fake ‘Vallejo’, who was somewhere else, stared at the two, conflict and tension brewing in the room. Fillmore took a deep breath, deciding on how exactly he should go about with the truth. “You want the truth? Fine. The real Vallejo is _right_ here and he somehow got turned into a ghost when he was possessed, so we need to convince Bartholomew to unpossess him.”

The silence erupted into laughter as everyone started laughing at him. Even Tehama, who was usually rather serious about matters like this, was chuckling ever so slightly. “Thanks for that, Fillmore, I _really_ needed a laugh today and _not_ one from O’Farrell, thank you very much.”

Vallejo squirmed closer to Fillmore, rather uncomfortable by the laughter and the fact that they didn’t even believe them. “Okay, so let me get this straight. When O’Farrell of all people comes in here with a weird theory, you all agree with him, but when _I_ do it suddenly I’m the laughing stock of the entire patrol?”

“O’Farrell _did_ have some evidence for this theory,” Anza began, smirking. “While it wasn’t _great_ evidence, it was _evidence,_ nonetheless. For all we know, you might just be saying this so you don’t feel alienated from the crew.”

“I don’t!”

“Then prove that Vallejo is with us at this very moment.” 

It should be _so_ easy to prove to Anza, along with everybody else, that their Junior Commissioner was right by them. Wait what if they…

Fillmore looked at Vallejo, feeling determined. “You wanna prove to these people that you exist?”

“I guess.”

“Who are you talking to?” Ingrid asked, quizzically.

“Here’s your proof. Vallejo will knock over this very chair, right here.” Fillmore stepped aside, pointing to a desk chair sitting idly by them.

“What?! Fillmore, I’m a ghost, I’ll just go right through it! Besides, what if I damage the chair?!” Vallejo looked rather panicked, either by the prospect of this plan failing or damaging the chair and the Safety Patrol being forced to pay for it when all this was said and done.

“I don’t know, summon all your ghost strength or something!”

O’Farrell looked at Fillmore talking to what appeared to be thin air. “I told you guys, Vallejo and Fillmore are _both_ possessed.”

“We’re not po- okay, _I’m_ not possessed. Anyway, do it, Vallejo.”

For a second, nothing happened. Before everyone could start laughing again, the chair suddenly toppled over, landing on the ground. Fillmore could only _hope_ that they believed him now.

“Hmm, interesting,” Ingrid mused, walking over and inspecting the fallen chair. “There’s no wind, no loose parts, so it appears that this chair was indeed toppled over by _supernatural forces._ ”

“There, see! I did it! Does everyone believe him now?!” Vallejo grunted, slightly proud of himself for being able to pull such a feat, especially being in this limiting spectral form.

“So Vallejo really _is_ a ghost, cool! How come only you can see him, Fillmore?”

“Honestly, O’Farrell, that has to be the smartest question you’ve asked so far, and truth be told, I’m not really sure why I can. But you all believe me now, right?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Listen, I don’t know what this fake body-taking Vallejo wants, but we’re going to find out, alright?”

“I think I can speak for everyone when I say it’s nice to have the real Vallejo back,” Tehama stated, stretching. “Even if we can’t see him.”

Vallejo was rather touched by the comment. “Uh… nice to see you too.”

“Now, first things first, we need to find this _fake_ Vallejo and get him to spill the beans.”

Thankfully, before Fillmore could say anything else, the fake Vallejo stepped in, rather nervously. Vallejo saw the fake and growled, not happy to see his body-snatcher in person. As if the fake Vallejo could see the real one, he instantly became more nervous and started backing up towards the door, but Fillmore was quick enough to beat him there.

“Not so fast, Vallejo, or should I say, _Bartholomew.”_


	3. ACT THREE: A Spiritual Awakening

**ACT THREE: A Spiritual Awakening**

Fake Vallejo, now known as Bartholomew, let out a nervous laugh, eyeing the door, as if planning to make an escape. “Me? I-I’m not Bartholomew! I’m… I’m Vallejo, o-obviously!”

“Yea, and I’m the Queen of England!” Vallejo sneered, holding himself from attacking well, himself, because he knew it'd be pointless.

“It’s over, Bartholomew,” Fillmore noticed the suspect eyeing the door. “Don’t even try to run, we’ll catch you, I can promise you that.”

The fake let out a deep sigh and knew that whatever escape plan they tried would be futile. “You’re right, I wouldn’t be able to get very far, not in this body at least.”

“Did he just call me fat?”

“No, I-I didn’t mean it like that-” The body-snatching ghost panicked, attempting to take back what he said.

“Wait, you can see him too?” Fillmore asked, hoping that he wasn’t alone in this ghost sighting experience.

“Y-Yea? I mean, we’re both ghosts-” They realized what they said and figured that it was best to get the truth out. “Okay, I confess. I’m Bartholomew, I possessed your friend Vallejo so I could try to finally get my missing case reopened, happy?”

“I knew it!” O’Farrell exclaimed. “I _knew_ he was possessed! See, I was right, for once!”

Vallejo let out a groan and started walking towards the identity thief. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, give me back my body, you… you body-snatching thief!”

Bartholomew jumped back, not prepared for the sudden confrontation from his ‘victim’. “I can’t, not yet, anyways. How do I know that you’ll actually help me? I could just give you your body back and then you’re all like, ‘Well, that was weird, let’s all forget about this and go home, who cares about that poor ghost boy?’! I… I just want to find some peace, but I can’t. Not until I _know_ my case is solved.”

“How do you expect us to solve it?! We have literally no idea what we’re doing!” Tehama was at her limit at this point, done with everyone and everything.

“I don’t _expect_ you guys to solve it,” Bartholomew began, “I just need to find evidence of my disappearance and show it to the police so they’d reinvestigate my case.”

“So, here’s a question, why didn’t you just do it yourself? You have a physical form now, right? Why couldn’t _you_ just go and find it yourself instead of getting us involved? I’m not saying we don’t like solving cases, but the whole process seems _way_ more convoluted and complicated that way.” Anza’s question was definitely one to think about.

“Listen, being stuck as a ghost for ten years makes you rather rusty at problem solving, okay? Another thing I’m rusty at is detective work, I’d never be able to find out what happened on my own. You guys are the best in the school! Trust me, I’ve seen your work in action.”

“First of all, that’s creepy,” Ingrid commented. “Secondly, if you’re looking for detective work, you’ve come to the right place, though I’m sure you already know that. So, where do we go from here?”

Bartholomew thought for a few seconds. “I’m not _exactly_ sure, the memories of my… disappearance are pretty foggy, but we should probably start at the last place I remember, the basement.”

“The basement? What were you doing down there?”

“I’m not honestly sure, Officer Fillmore. I don’t really remember _why,_ I just know that I was down there.”

“Well, I doubt anyone has any better ideas of where to start.”

The school’s basement was not exactly an area frequented by many, In fact, to most students, it was entirely off limits. Thankfully, one of the many ‘privileges’ of being part of the Safety Patrol, was that one could journey into these off-limit places in order to solve or figure out cases.

Oh, the occasional black market/gambling scheme was _occasionally_ run down here as well, but usually ended up quickly stopped. 

Still, this place had a silent tone of dread and discomfort and the further that the team went down, the creepier it got.

“Man, this place is _creepy._ We’ve never been _this_ far in the basement before, tell me when we get to where we need to go.” Fillmore shuffled awkwardly, trying to avoid touching any walls or hanging ceiling pipes.

Ingrid studied the floor curiously, something taking up her interest. “Wait, guys, stop. Something doesn’t feel right about this place.”

“You’re telling me,” Vallejo said, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. “I doubt ghosts can be killed without the aid of an exorcism, but I’m not exactly itching to go test that theory right now.”

Bartholomew winced, as if relieving a painful memory. “ Now… Now I remember. Something happened here… Something because of… of…”

Fillmore noticed the ghost getting more and more worked up and put his hand on their shoulder. “It’s okay if you need to leave, nobody’ll blame you, this place is giving me the creeps as well.”

_“No, Fillmore._ I _need_ to know, I _need_ to _remember.”_ They froze, and looked as if they were terrified, angry and disgusted all at once. _“Mr. Edison.”_

“Mr. Edison?” Anza asked, a little confused. “Wasn’t he the head scientist of the school before he mysteriously retired due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ nine… years… ago…”

“Crackers, it all adds up! Did he _do_ something to you?”

“Well… uh… Third… since that’s what you like to be called, I’m not sure. My memory is still fuzzy… but I guess the deeper we go, the more I… remember?” However, despite this statement, Bartholomew seemed apprehensive about continuing and reliving the moment of their so-called disappearance and inevitable death.

“Dude, I’ll say it again, if you’re not comfortable with this, go back to the main floor and just wait for us to find the evidence. We don’t want to stress you out more than you need to be.”

“Fillmore, _please._ I _have_ to do this, like… It’s my _destiny._ It’s my destiny to go into the unknown and face my fears, I can just feel it. But I don’t know what’s actually beyond there and what little memory I have tells me that _it isn’t good._ So I’d feel better if _you_ go back up there, I don’t want to possibly traumatize you.”

A silence filled the air as everyone looked at each other, wondering what to say or do. Should they face their own personal demons and fears _with_ Bartholomew or should they go back into the main level, where they’d be safe and well protected from whatever was in the deep end, whether it was physical or mental?

Finally, Fillmore spoke up. “Listen, if you guys want to go back upstairs, feel free to. But _I’m_ staying with Bartholomew, someone needs to protect him and _not_ because we need Vallejo back. This kid needs to find his peace and it’s only right someone helps him along the way.”

“You know, Fillmore, that’s very kind and noble of you and we’ll all be with you in spirit.” O’Farrell commented, already turning around.

“So I take it that you’re not coming?” Fillmore asked, watching O’Farrell make his rather lame escape attempt, before turning towards Tehama and Anza. “What about you two?”

“I’ve got… lab tests to run,” Tehama murmured, before turning to look at her partner. “And I’m sure Anza has important things to do too, are we still doing that Haunted House later? If so, we better get ready, see you guys later!”

Without so much as a word, Anza nodded and the two followed O’Farrell, leaving only Fillmore, Ingrid, Bartholomew and Vallejo left in the group, though Fillmore wasn’t too sure how long they’d stay either.

“Ingrid? Vallejo?” He asked, hoping that just _maybe_ they wouldn’t chicken out, even though he wouldn’t blame them if they did just that.

“I’ll come,” Ingrid said, in a rather hushed tone. “To the living and non-ghostly people, this is just a regular school basement with no traumatizing memories involving it.”

“I’m leaving.” Vallejo stated, bluntly.

“You are?”

“Yes, I’m leaving, Fillmore. No, of course I’m not leaving! Where would I even go?! Besides, that body-snatcher over here is worried about me getting traumatized as if I’m not already traumatized from all this! Oh yea, ghost boy, when this is all over, you better pay for my therapist!”

“Uh,” Bartholomew began to walk further down the hall. “Can we finish this later, _after_ I deal with my terrifying fears?”

“Yea, chief, drop it. Remember what I said, he has had _way_ worse of a life than you.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, following the three. “You guys know you still look insane, right, since you're talking to thin air?"

Deeper into the basement, the corridors got smaller and smaller, making it a rather tight fit for the now smaller group. Fillmore looked around, flashing the walls with his flashlight, squinting at the gross moss and mold on the walls. "We almost there? This place is _definitely_ a health and safety hazard."

"Well, the good thing is that no student, besides us, is allowed down here, so it shouldn't be _too_ huge of an issue," Ingrid commented. "Definitely wouldn't kill to do a power wash down here every once in a while, though."

Bartholomew came to a sudden halt, eyeing the place suspiciously. "We're here, I can feel it. It has to be around here somewhere.

"What's around here, dog?"

"My hat! I remember having it on when… when… Mr. Edison lured me… down here…"

"He _lured_ you down here?" While Ingrid was not one to get overemotional, there was definitely a trace of horror in her voice.

"He… He lured me and then he…" Bartholomew dropped to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, close to crying. Ingrid and Vallejo didn’t have any idea what exactly to say or do, but Fillmore got down on the ground next to them and put his arm around their shoulder. They turned around to look at him, tearing up slightly. “We _have_ to find it, Fillmore.

He nodded. “I know, but where could it be?”

“I… I don’t know, but-”

“Fillmore, Third, Weird Boy, you might want to check this out.”

“Yo, Ingrid, I’ll be back, watch over Bartholomew for me, okay?” Fillmore stood up and made his way over to Vallejo, who was squinting at something in the distance. “What did you find?”

“Just take a look for yourself.” Came the rather curt response.

As Fillmore got a closer inspection at the mystery object, he figured out what it was after noticing the shape, vivid colors, and other oddities on it. “Hey, I think we found the hat that you were talking about.”

“You did?!” Bartholomew was up in a _millisecond,_ rushing over to the two, Ingrid following behind, but at her _own_ pace. He took one look at it and wiped his eyes, smiling slightly. “Yep, that’s my hat, alright.”

“So now that we found your hat, now what?” Fillmore asked.

“As much as I hate to say it, it’s times like these that we _really_ need O’Farrell. Also, we need Tehama as well, she’s the one who knows how to collect evidence.” Ingrid did raise a good point, how were they going to do this without the help of Tehama or O’Farrell?

“We can go back upstairs and get them-”

“No,” Fillmore began, cutting off Bartholomew. “We did a good job on this case, but I think it’s high time we handed this over to the _professionals.”_

Before long, police swarmed the school, investigating the basement and asking questions to the Safety Patrol. Being that Bartholomew was currently the Junior Commissioner, or at least in the _body_ of one, he was given the brunt of it all.

“So, what made you decide you wanted to look into an old case, Mr. Vallejo?” The police officer asked, writing on their notebook.

“Well… I uh…” Bartholomew stuttered slightly, trying to think of something to say that didn’t come off as suspicious in any sort of way. “There’s been a lack of cases, so I decided that maybe we should look into old ones? Then one thing lead to another and here we are.” 

“The Safety Patrol sure is _lucky_ to have you as their Junior Commissioner and I’m sure your parents are _very_ proud of you for all your hard work,” The officer said, ruffling Bartholomew’s hair. He blushed, thinking of his _own_ parents, how were they? If they were still around, they probably still felt horrible about their only son’s sudden disappearance. At least they could finally get some closure now and that made him happy. “Well, we gotta get back to the station and run some tests, you take care now.”

As the troop left the school, Bartholomew couldn’t really do anything but stand there and think, was he really free? Could he finally leave this wretched place and continue his story somewhere else? Fillmore joined him, along with the others.

“You did great, Bart, real great.”

“You think I did? You think my parents _would_ be proud of me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, now that this whole case is reopened or whatever you wanted,” Vallejo grumbled, stepping up close to the two. “Give me back my body!”

“Oh, right,” Bartholomew stepped back at Vallejo’s sudden and direct approach, but he knew what he had to do. “It’s been real fun hanging out with you guys, but I suppose it’s about time that I give Vallejo his body back. Who knows, maybe we might see each other again!”

“We’ll miss you, B.” Fillmore gave the boy a small hug. “See you around.”

Bartholomew nodded before falling on the ground as Vallejo’s spirit disappeared, returning back to its rightful place. For a split second, Fillmore saw the _real_ spirit of Bartholomew, who grinned, happy as ever, before vanishing, finally able to move on.

Meanwhile, Vallejo groaned, trying to sit himself up, before falling back onto the ground. _“I feel like I got run over by a flipping Zamboni or something.”_

Tehama and Anza were by his side, helping him up. “Easy there, boss.”

“I’m fine, Anza, honestly,” Vallejo brushed himself off, trying to regain his sense of balance. “I’m just glad to one, be back in my own body, and two, glad that people can actually see me again. Now, if you excuse me, I’m off to my office to file paperwork and forget this ever happened.”

Tehama walked towards the headquarters. “Since the school day is practically over, I’m going to go pack up and head off to that haunted house with Anza.’

“I thought you said that you quote unquote ‘Had enough shenanigans involving anything haunted’.” Ingrid said, rather bemused by the sudden turn of events.

“That might be true, but,” Tehama started, before looking at Anza with a slight smile. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Can I come?!” O’Farrell asked, excited. 

Before Tehama could deny the request, Anza smirked, rather deviously. “Sure, just don’t expect us to come to your aid when you pee your pants because of all the _spooky_ horrors.”

“Actually, I think I’ll just stay home and work on my Halloween costume,” The boy mumbled out loud, backing away from the two. “You two have uh… fun!”

“Well, catch you later, Ingrid.” Fillmore waved goodbye to his friend as he went his separate way down the hall.

“Bye.”

A few days later, during a rather quiet and unsuspecting Halloween night, a teenager, holding a giant container, bursts out of the school’s rooftop access door, proceeding to slowly back away from it while gripping the container tightly.

“You… You won’t catch me this time, Safety Patrol!” He growls, darting around, trying to think of an escape plan that wouldn’t end up in a broken bone or two.

“We already did.”

He turned around at the voice and saw a costume that looked like Drooper from the Banana Splits climb up onto the roof, right behind him. It pulls it’s head off, revealing it’s none other than Fillmore. “Your candy shipment stealing days are over, Bryce.”

Bryce turns back around and starts running towards the door, only for it to open up and Ingrid steps out, wearing a bear costume. On the opposite sides of him, Anza and Tehama appear, also wearing rather silly mascot-like costumes.

He panics knowing that he’s surrounded and after desperately looking around a little bit more, drops the container and puts his arms up in utter surrender. “Fine, you win. Take me away or whatever it is you fake cops do.”

“Gladly.’ Tehama says, grabbing one of his arms while her partner grabs the other. “We’ll get him back to Headquarters, you two get the stolen candy back to the party.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Tehama.” Fillmore nodded, watching as they pulled away the suspect, who was currently complaining about ‘How ridiculous it is to be seen getting apprehended by a bunch of animal mascots.’

As he went to pick up the box, he noticed how _pretty_ the sky was. While it was usually never that clear out during this time of year, it was downright _gorgeous_ right now. The sky was perfectly clear, the stars were out, it was simply breathtaking.

“Admiring the view, huh?” His partner asked, watching him gaze at it with wonder and awe. “It _is_ a pretty sight to see, though I honestly prefer the Aurora Boralis myself.”

“It is,” Fillmore commented, though he picked up the box, intending to haul it back downstairs. “But we better get this box of candy back where it belongs.”

“What’s the rush, Fillmore? We won’t actually need it for _at-least_ another half-hour or hour. Why not sit down here and enjoy the view?”

Ingrid most certainly had a way with her words. Setting the box back down, he sat on the ground with a sigh of defeat. “You’re right, I’m sure we can take a tiny break. Besides, the cold air feels nice after being stuck in a sweaty costume for hours on end.”

“It’s like what you said, dressing up _is_ part of the job.” She smirked.

“I know, I know,” Fillmore glanced at the night sky, thinking deeply. “Where do you think Bartholomew is right now? Like, what happens _after_ you’re a ghost?”

“Don’t be getting all philosophical on me right now. But I might have an answer to your question,” Ingrid began, mentally counting the stars in her head. “That is, if you _want_ to accept it as the answer.”

“That depends, I suppose. What’s your theory?”

“It’s not a theory, It’s kind of a story my grandmother told me when I was young, a story I took to heart. She says that when we die, we become the stars in the sky. I know that somebody like me would say that would be impossible since stars are just gas giants, but… it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

Fillmore mulled over what his partner said and smiled slightly. “I think it is. I bet being a star wouldn’t be so bad.”

The two leaned against the box and while there weren’t many words spoken, that was completely fine. What mattered was that they were here, enjoying the moment, enjoying each other’s company and that in some way or form, Bartholomew was somewhere happy and nice.


End file.
